Dreaming of Home
by quicksiluers
Summary: It was a dream, a fantasty that had only formed in his head before it was quickly snatched away. He wasn't anyone special, no one should care that he woud fade away. He had no home to go to. Rick Deckard had other ideas.


I love this movie. And refuse to believe that K died at the end even though it made for a powerful ending...let me have this.

* * *

White. It was the thing that started all of this, wasn't it? Something that stood out from the white, that made him take notice. He had seen the miracle and it brought him here. As he laid there on cold, hard steps, snow slowly falling around him, K knew his time was up. Even on the worst days of his job, _was it a job if you were forced to do it?_ , he had never felt that tired. Every part of his body ached.

It didn't matter.

He had chosen what he wanted to do, he had saved Deckard. Brought him back to...to his daughter. There was nothing left for him, no home to go to. No Joi to speak with when he walked through the door. Her voice still echoed through his mind, her last words before she…

He thought he felt someone shake him, say his name over and over, but it was muffled. Was this what it felt like to die? For everything to slowly fade away? His mind drifted back to the moment this all started, landing at the farm of Sapper Morton. The stark white tree, the small, delicate yellow flower that caught his attention. What would have happened if he never went back to that tree?

The question fades from his mind.

A sense of warmth washes over him. Awareness slowly came back to him and he realizes that the surface he's on is no longer cold and hard. It's soft, comforting, and cushioned. Like a bed. Why would he be on a bed? His thoughts were sluggish, unable to to put together simple pieces. He should be gone, he shouldn't have thoughts. Why does he have thoughts?

Something wet pumps what K thinks is his hand. A faint whine breaks through his mind, though it's unlike anything he's heard. A person has never made that noise, as far as he knew. Was he in danger? Did they find him? If they found him, then they found Deckard and Dr. Stelline.

His mind clicks then. Slowly, he cracks open his eyes. Everything's a blur, but he's not met with the stark white sky that had once blinded him.

The whine and wet feeling catch his attention again and he turns his head. He should be more alert, but he's never been so tired. Everything is jumbled.

The blur comes into focus and he's met with a pair of dark eyes staring at him. The creature is panting, looking at him with an interest that K doesn't understand. He's seen this creature before, but where? It seems to know him as it continues to nudge at his exposed hand.

It was the creature Deckard had. Which meant that Deckard was here, which also meant…

"Max, come back here."

The creature obeys, turning from him and trotting over to the gruff voice that K knew.

Deckard.

A shadow comes over him briefly and the older man kneels down next to his bed. He's silent, his eyes scanning over K and it puts him on edge. People looked at K all the time, but never with the look that Deckard had. There was an emotion there that K couldn't describe. Most of the things that Deckard did, K couldn't describe.

"'I'm fine' my ass," he grunted, shaking his head, "was that your whole scheme? To go out and die by yourself?"

"It seemed liked...the only thing to do at the time," K mumbled, his eyes avoiding the other's, "What use am I now?"

"Use?" Deckard's voice has a hint of anger, "Is that what you're going by, how useful you are? You're more than your uses."

K stayed silent, his eyes focused on the ceiling. What use is a replicant who can't obey? He'd have nowhere to go, on the run for the rest of his...life? Existence? They would find him eventually, like how he always found other replicants. They would put him down and move on. There was nothing special about him, no one needed him.

"Joe…"

"Don't," his throat his tight, his eyes snapping to Deckard's, "don't call me that."

Her eyes pop into his mind, her sweet smile, her voice. Her hand reaching out to him, crouching down to him as he laid on the ground, saying "I love y-".

Joi was gone. The memories, his own memories that he was clinging to, were all he had left of her. It was too painful, everything about what had happened was too painful for him. It left him empty, confused, which he had never been before. He used to have a purpose, a mission, and now he had none of that.

"What, don't call you your name?" Deckard asked, "I'm not calling you by your serial number, you're more then that. Even if you don't believe it."

"Where are we?" K asked, trying to change the subject, "how did we get…"

Deckard watched him for a moment, his eyes narrowing, before grunting, "A hide out I had, an hour or two away from where Ana is. Seems the LAPD hasn't changed up their spinner's too much since I've been there. Still easy enough to fly."

"Is she…?"

Was she here? Did she know? His last visit to her played in his mind, the tears rolling down her face, her voice soothing but sad. She hadn't lied when she said the memories were real. He had just assumed she meant they were his.

"She's not here, I told her we'd come back for her."

"We?"

Deckard shrugged, slowly standing from his position. He was staring down at K, towering over him, his voice matter of fact, "Well, since we'll all have to be on the run, it'll be easier to get her out when you're healed up."

His mouth felt dry, the words playing over and over in his mind. Deckard wanted to take him with them. He was willing to risk their safety to take K with them. The simple idea brought emotions to him that he thought he had pushed away. He had felt these before, when he thought….when he was so sure he was…

Deckard' back was to him when he spoke again, "I'm going to go out, try to find us some food and supplies. It may be a few hours. Max will be here, he'll bark if anyone comes by."

K wanted to reach out to the man, clinging to the idea, to the concept of the dream he longed for. The heaviness of his limbs reminded him how tired he was, how every muscle screamed with soreness. Something had to be said, so much was already done for him. Things he didn't deserve, that he shouldn't have, and yet this man was willing to give them to him.

"Thank you…" it was barely a whisper, his throat constricted. There were other things he wanted to say, but he didn't know how to express them. Deckard turned back to him, watching him, before nodding and walking out the door.

His vision faded. He was lost to the darkness once more.

* * *

When K woke up again, Deckard hadn't returned. He slowly sat up, turning so his feet were on the floor, and his hand grazed over his injured side. His whole abdominal area felt like it was bruised, though he wouldn't be surprised. That woman he fought, Luv, was extremely powerful. If he didn't have the element of surprise…, he shut down the thought before he could finish it.

Slowly standing, K took measured steps towards the door. They must be in some type of run down town if Deckard had gone out to look for supplies. It also must have been somewhat safe. They would have to move soon, injuries or not, before someone at the station realized what occurred. He was way beyond the time limit to go back for the baseline test, they would come looking for him.

His hand froze on the knob at the thought. How had they not found him yet? He knew there was a tracker on him, Joshi had made that very clear when he started. She had even told him where it was.

Grazing over the base of his neck, he felt something soft. A gauze of some kind. Deckard's words from earlier came back to him and his eyes widened.

The chip was gone.

' _I told her we'd come back from her.'_

Frozen. His mind racing, his thoughts and emotions going a mile a minute. It was beyond what he expected, beyond what he believed he could have.

After finding out he wasn't the child, he had pushed everything down. The small bit of hope, the slivers over happiness, they had been crushed when the truth slapped him in the face. The pain that he felt, slowly sitting down on that makeshift bed as others watched, was unbearable. Devastating.

But here he was, his hands shaking and his forehead leaning against the door. Deckard taking care of him, looking out for him, like he was….as if he was part of a fam-

A whine broke through his thoughts. Rubbing his eyes, he felt moisture of his finger tips, K looked down at the creature that Deckard kept. It was panting again, looking up at him. It nudged its nose against his knee and then whined, turning its furry head to the door.

"So you wanna go too…" he mumbled, a ghost of a smile tugging on the edge of his lips. K grasped the knob again and opened the door, slowly grazing around the other room.

The room was mostly empty, save for a few chairs and a couch that were scattered around. It had been deserted, for how long K wasn't sure. The furry creature trotted around the room, sniff one spot to another.

K's eyes landed on the far wall and he was met with a half empty book case. Making his way slowly across the room, his hand stretched out and skimmed the spines of the tattered books. They hadn't been touched in ages, judging by the amount of dust that coated his finger tips.

Carefully, K pulled a book out, wiping away the dust. There was nothing written on the cover, the binding of the book a deep blue, and K turned it over in his hands. Nothing. He flipped the book open, the words were faded and the pages aged.

"The Great Gatsby…," he mumbled, scanning the opening pages with care.

Something behind him made a sound and his eyes snapped up, quickly turning. The creature, _did Deckard call it Max?_ , sat a few feet away from him, it's eyes trained on K. A small piece of wood sat before him.

K shoulders sagged, a sigh escaping him, before looking between the creature and the wood. What was he supposed to do?

Closing the book, K slowly moved forward. He was still uneasy around the creature, though it didn't seem to want to do him any harm. It was unfamiliar and that put him on edge. He crouched down in front of the wood, his eyes trained on the creature, and raised an eyebrow.

"Do...do you want this?"

The creature blinked, silently panting. Not a very helpful response.

Picking up the wood, he turned it over in his hands a few times. What was he supposed to do? Did it want to eat this? Did it want K to have this?

An idea popped into his head and before he could second guess it, K gently tossed the wood a few feet away from him. The creature perked up, it's ears lifting off it's head, and it got up. He watched it trot over to the wood, sniffing it for a moment before biting into it. The creature came back to him, dropping the wood between his feet before it let out a yelping sound.

K blinked, confused. He grabbed the wood again, grimacing when his hand became slick with the saliva from the creature, Max?, and tossed it again. Max happily followed, faster this time, and it's tail was wagging back and forth as it made it's way back to K.

"I take it you're enjoying this?" he asked, knowing he would get no response. The corners of his lips tugged up as Max dropped the wood back at his feet.

As he grabbed the wood and began to stand, a sharp pain spread from his side. Clenching his teeth, K hissed, curling slightly into himself. For a few minutes, he almost forgot that he was a walking bruise.

A low whine brought him back and he had to bite back a laugh as he looked down at the furry creature. It seemed worried, pawing at his leg,

"I'm ok...just forgot is all…," he mumbled, standing up straight. His side throbbed and he took a deep breath, trying to push it aside. Max continued to bump at his legs, slowly circling him and whining.

K looked around and found the couch, walking over to it. He sat down slowly, his hand ghosting his side, and sighed. He wasn't used to the pain bothering him for so long. The kit that he usually used back his apartment was long gone. And going to an actual hospital was out of the question. He didn't want to bother Deckard about it, he'd already done so much for him.

Max sat down next to his knees, ears laying back against its head.

"Sorry the game got cut short," K grimaced, his hand sneaking under his shirt, "maybe later?"

Max stared at him, head turning to the side slightly. It was incredibly...cute was the word? Very cute. A tired smile stretched across his face, the slice of wood slipping from his hand. Deckard never did say if this creature was real or not. At the moment, it didn't matter. It seemed to be a good companion.

The fur had him curious. What did it feel like? Would Max allow him to touch him? Did people do that with creature's like this? He tried to remember back to the short time he saw Max follow Deckard around in Las Vegas, but nothing really jumped out to him.

A memory came to him. Joi's dark hair flared out, looking up at him as she looked over the creature, "He seems really loyal." It was simple, but it was everything coming from her. Her eyes shined with curiosity, her smile soft.

K reached out to Max, pushing the memory away as quickly as he could. Thinking of her hurt too much. It would always hurt to think of her. He would face it at another time.

The fur was soft, thick, but still warm. Max's ears perked up as K's hand gently combed through the fur. He repeated the same motion and he noticed Max's tail wagging quickly. He scratched a bit behind the creature's ears and the wagging continued.

K let out a light laugh, "You like that?"

A bark was his reply and he couldn't keep the rare smile off his face. He got lost in it, petting down his back and around his face, and chuckling when Max would try to lick his hand. It was soothing, the playful nature. Just for a moment, he could let all his worries be lost. It was just him and Max, no one else.

It would take time, he thought, but he could get use to this concept. This idea of him, Deckard, Ana, and Max. Having people care for him, look out for him. And he would do the same in return. It was a fantasy for so long, but now...it could be real. He thought his small sliver of happiness left when Joi left him. But now, the dream was starting to take shape. It would be difficult and there was much he had to learn, to get used to. He had found it though.

He found a home.

* * *

Deckard tossed the bag over his shoulder, looking left and right before moving down the alley way. This place had been deserted for years, but with everything that happened, he knew they had to keep moving. No one place was truly safe. Luckily, this spot had some of the supplies he needed for him and Joe to keep moving.

Joe. He was another puzzle that Deckard was still trying to figure out. When he had mentioned to Ana that Joe, she knew him as Officer K, brought him to her, she had wanted to see him. She was upset, explaining to him what had occurred the last time Joe was there. That information, along with how Joe acted when he first found him, caused his brain to click.

Joe thought he was…

Deckard found him out in the snow, a light dusty already over him. Red stained the white snow by his side and he had cursed, trying to shake Joe awake. His eyes were glassed over, shallow breaths wheezing out. He was able to find a kit in the spinner Joe rode over in and dragged him into the entrance way of the facility, escaping the cold.

"You're not going out like this kid," Deckard grumbled as he peeled away his shit, "not after all of this dammit."

Eventually, Joe was patched up to the best of his ability. Deckard dragged him back to the spinner and went back to Ana quickly. He explained to her what had occurred and his plan to come back for her.

Ana had nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears, "I know you two will come back," she placed her hand on the glass, "I'll be here."

He laid his hand over her's, the glass the only thing keeping them apart. The need to reach out for her, to hug her, hold her, was overpowering. This moment was something he dreamed of over and over. It was a fantasy that would never be a reality. But Joe had made it happen.

"Father," Ana's voice was strong, "You need to cut out his chip. They'll be able to track him."

"Where is it?"

"It should be the base of his neck."

Deckard rode in the opposite direction of where their eventual destination would be, in case they were tracking Joe. He found a secluded area and carefully cut the tracker out. Joe hadn't moved during the entire sequence.

It bothered him more than it should have. While he would check on Joe, Roy's words would drift in his head. They were both different and similar. The younger model didn't seem to care if he lived on. Roy had fought tooth and nail, only dying when his time was up. But there was a look in their eyes that they shared, a kind of longing. They wanted more then what this world had presented to them.

Checking around the area, Deckard quickly walked up through the hideout door, locking the multiple locks that held the door closed. Talking was never his favorite thing to do, but he would have to talk to Joe. To make him understand why he still needed to be here, why he should come with Deckard to get Ana.

Reaching the top of the steps, his feet stopped at the entrance. On the couch was Joe, his face relaxed, his chest rising and falling gently. An arm crossed over stomach, his hand lingering at his injured side. What made Deckard pause was Max. The dog, somehow, curled himself up to Joe's other side, in between him and the couch. His head rested on Joe's shoulder, eyes half open, alerted by Deckard's presence.

Deckard eyebrows furrowed, confused, before he sighed. He walked cautiously over to the pair, a smile faintly on his lips. Max's head popped up, his eyes meeting Deckard's, before he relaxed again on Joe's shoulder. A blanket sat at the other end of the couch and he picked it up, laying it over the two of them.

Joe's face was clearing up, the bruises yellowing and the rough scratches healing. His expression was relaxed and it occurred to Deckard how young he actually looked. The newer models always looked that way, but there was something different with Joe's. Even in the short time he was away, something had changed. His eyes flashed to the grey furred animal, then back to Joe.

Maybe he felt safe. Maybe...maybe he accepted what Deckard was trying to tell him earlier. That Joe was more than his programming.

That he found a home.


End file.
